


Freezing

by kachicu



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Death, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Other, Yeah so what if Wilbur blew everything up yknow, lots of character death ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kachicu/pseuds/kachicu
Summary: Manburg is turned to ash and debris, and Wilbur finds himself descending deeper and deeper into the freezing embrace of regrets.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Freezing

"Well.... that was pretty easy."

Schlatt's voice echoed through the microphone and Wilbur couldn't stop the shivers from trailing up his rigid spine. He tried desperately to cling to the words but they seemed to dissipate into empty air as panic flooded his senses. 

They’d lost the election. Wilbur’s grasp on leadership had slipped into the hands of Schlatt- and he couldn’t help but feel like his grip on reality was slipping just as fast.

Everything was falling apart around him.

He felt a hand tightly grip his sleeve as all the commotion faded into nothing as Wilbur just... stared.

Schlatt held his gaze, Wilbur almost sunk to his knees.

He thought he knew Schlatt. When the ram horned male returned to the SMP he’d been somewhat joyful.

Schlatt was supposed to be his friend.

Why did everyone always betray him?

All at once, the noise flooded his ears again, but all he could focus on was Tommy tugging his sleeve and Schlatt shouting ‘get them out of here!’

They were exiled.

He should have seen it coming.

“Tommy- Tommy run!” He grabbed his companion's arm and turned to run, chest tightening with pure fear as arrows whizzed past his running frame.

Tommy was ahead of him, that was good. If he didn’t make it, maybe Tommy would.

Pain blossomed in his chest and spread like fire, and Wilbur couldn’t stop the cry of agony in time.

Everything was a blur after that. Tommy slung Wilbur’s arm over his own shoulder, and the brunette faintly recalled begging the blonde to go on and leave him behind.

He considered it pure luck they got out with their lives.

* * *

Wilbur never expected he’d be living in a ravine, away from everyone he’d loved.

He’d fought a war, he’d gone days without rest and watched his companions fall around him. When they finally gained their independence, everyone had been overjoyed- and Wilbur made the mistake of thinking they could go on in peace.

He’d never thought he’d lose his country, his freedom, and the place he’d fought so hard for so easily to someone he’d thought was a friend.

Technoblade was here.

He’d showed up not too long after, when Wilbur had been slumped against the walls of the ravine, breathing shakily as blood stained the bandages around his chest.

“I heard you two might need some assistance.” 

Wilbur closed his eyes, listening to Techno and Tommy converse. But soon enough their words faded into background ambiance and Wilbur lost count of how long had passed.

“Wilbur?”

Brown eyes blinked open and he blearily stared at Technoblade who was crouched down next to him, Tommy standing behind him. The pink-haired male’s brows were furrowed, and Wilbur almost thought he saw concern swimming in his eyes.

“Techno.” His voice was quiet, and the brunette moved to try to sit up only to slump back against the wall with a grunt of pain. He felt Techno place his hand on his shoulder, and the only thing Wilbur could offer was a shaky smile of reassurance.

“What happened?”

Wilbur let out a shaky laugh that dissipated into a sharp cough.

“Exile tears down the strongest souls.” 

It was starting to get cold.

* * *

Pogtopia.

They were getting stronger. They were preparing to take back what they loved.

Wilbur was starting to doubt.

Tommy was with him.

He saw him as a younger brother, and he’d always been his right-hand man. Wilbur felt he was the only one he could trust anymore.

Techno was with them.

Wilbur also saw him as a brother, someone who he could confide in- but that’s where his doubts started. Techno was willing to help overthrow Schlatt- but he couldn’t completely pick out his true plans.

Wilbur felt he was going to get betrayed another time.

Tubbo was with them.

Wilbur didn’t trust Tubbo.

Tubbo had become Schlatt’s right-hand man. Tubbo claimed that he was spying for them, and he’d tried time and time again to prove it to them.

Tommy trusted Tubbo.

Wilbur didn’t.

Wilbur’s trust in anyone was starting to fade.

The cold grew.

* * *

The festival was near.

Wilbur had spoken to Tubbo, despite his pure hesitance to trust him. They'd planned a code, the very sentence that would send Manburg tumbling down into nothing but a pile of rubble and ash.

Tubbo had been hesitant, Wilbur could tell. The younger male didn't want to destroy it all. He didn't want to kill everyone he loved.

Wilbur wished he felt the same. Maybe he did, and he just didn't realize.

The cold was too numbing, and he couldn't think.

He wanted it back.

He'd do anything to get it back.

Tommy had told Tubbo of Wilbur's plan before him.

Wilbur told Tubbo not to speak to Tommy anymore.

He'd destroy it.

If he couldn't have Manburg, no one could have Manburg,

* * *

He was hesitating.

He didn’t know what to do. For the briefest of moments, the cold that had been clinging to him for so long seemed to fade- replacing it was conflict.

Should he really blow it up?

He’d been so set on it for so long.

Some still sane part of his mind begged him to not. Tried to convince him that they could still get it back in one piece and not as a pile of ash.

But he knew he’d never get it back.

“Let the festival begin!”

Wilbur pressed the button.

The explosion rang out, smoke poured into the sky, and screams filled the air.

The fire did nothing to soothe the chill in his bones.

He missed Phil.

He wondered if he’d be proud of him.

* * *

There was nothing left.

It was all gone.

Wilbur picked his way through the debris and ash. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his trench coat, expression blank as he stared out across the destruction.

They were gone.

He could pick out the bodies among the rubble- the hand of Tubbo. He’d never see the kids bright smile or listen to him ramble excitedly again.

The boot of Eret. A traitor. But did he really deserve such a fate?

Fundy. His son. His red ears were matted with soot and blood.

Fundy had looked up to him.

Niki.

She’d trusted him. 

Wasn’t he a traitor too?

“Wil...bur...”

The British male turned his head to look at Schlatt, the horned male’s body half sticking out beneath the rubble.

“Didn’t know... ya had... it in you..” He breathed out, and Wilbur had to stop himself from stepping back as Schlatt let out a dry chuckle.

“You... always said... you were a... dirty crime boy...”

Wilbur watched the corners of the Manburg president’s mouth twitch up into a small smile just before the light in dark eyes faded.

Wilbur crumbled to his knees and screamed.

It was still so cold.

* * *

The woods were nice.

They were the opposite of the destruction he’d caused. Instead of burnt wood and shattered concrete, there was grass and thriving trees.

Wilbur had given up.

The river was clear. Salmon swam through the cold water, scales glittering gently in the sunlight. Yet Wilbur made no attempt to drink.

He didn’t deserve it.

He was ready to sink down onto the dirt and fade away as everyone else had.

He couldn’t live with it anymore.

* * *

Hallucinations were the worst form of torment.

“Phil?”

Wilbur’s voice came out in a croak, brown eyes blurred as he stared at the winged figure of someone he considered to be a dad. 

“Wilbur...”

The brunette flinched back, limbs aching and trembling as shaky breaths rattled harshly through his lungs.

“What have you done?”

“What....?” He thought he’d done right. His doubts weren’t meant to be true. 

He’d never meant to be wrong.

“Are.... are you proud of me?” Wilbur breathed out, eyes hopeful as he gazed at someone he’d looked up to for so long- someone he’d looked to for guidance.

“Proud of you?” Phil trailed off, frowning heavily as he shook his head lightly. “No. This isn’t the Wilbur I know.”

The brunette sunk to his knees with a sob, closing his eyes for a brief moment- when he opened them again, Phil was gone.

He missed Phil.

He knew Phil wasn’t proud of him.

* * *

"I think this time I'm dying." The words left his mouth in a small breath, voice breaking near the end of the singular sentence. His fingers twitched from his huddled up position as if the appendages longed to drift across the strings of a guitar that wasn’t present.

"I think I've lost my mind."

The cold seemed to seep through his jacket and shirt and straight into his bones. The air was frigid, yet it did nothing to dampen the burning sense of regret and loneliness in his aching chest.

“Mixing the fact and the fiction...”

The brunette blinked open bleary eyes, and his vision blurred. The walls of the cave loomed over him, and he could almost imagine the walls staring down on him in the same disappointment and disgust everyone would display towards him should he ever go back.

He made a mistake.

The cold was overwhelming.

He could just envision Tubbo and Tommy tackling him in a hug. Their bright smiles eased his stress and he almost felt a bit warmer.

“We missed you, big man!”

Almost.

Shaking arms looped around their shoulders only to be replaced by empty air and the laughter faded into nothing but a broken sob that came from what he could only assume was his own throat.

His shoulders shook with light, pained laughter that resonated throughout the cave.

“I miss you guys... so much.....”

It’s so cold.

Wilbur’s form tipped over to collapse onto his side, the brunette curling up and closing his eyes. The shivering had finally stopped. 

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was just above a whisper, a small sniffle echoing through the cave.

“I’m so... so sorry.....”

He laughed one more time, the sound having been associated with joy now replaced with pain.

He closed his eyes, thinking maybe, just maybe, he should have never pressed that button.

Maybe they would have forgiven him.

He exhaled slowly, fingers twitching momentarily before stilling.

He was so tired.

At least he wasn’t cold for once.

* * *

Dream stepped lightly through the trees, treading carefully on the grass as he moved carefully towards the dark entrance of a cave.

Before long he was crouching next to Wilbur’s still form, one hand reaching up to remove his mask as piercing green eyes studied the scene before him.

Letting out a low sigh, the male stood again, his eyes flooded with sadness. He had his own regrets, handing off the TNT to Wilbur when he could have stopped him.

He could have prevented this.

Shaking his head lightly, he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh and a frown.

“I’m... rest well, Wilbur. I’m sorry.”

Turning, he went back down the path he’d come from, his mind swimming. 

Pogtopia was gone.

Manburg was gone.

Dream got what he wanted, he ruled all of the SMP once again.

But the server felt a little more empty.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao all my friends screamed at me when I kept dropping previews of this to them it was great 😎😎 anyways follow me on insta I need clout <3 https://www.instagram.com/kachicu/


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